When You're Weary, Feeling Small
How long do you have to know someone before they're an old friend? Is it length of time, richness of emotion, number of shared experiences?
Why do I ask? Well. Saw the Zach Braff film Garden State last night; there's a scene where he uses the Simon and Garfunkel song "The Only Living Boy In New York" on the soundtrack - and I immediately found myself singing along. And then in a moment it was a drizzly Sunday night in the spring of 1970 and I’m huddled in the back seat of my roommate Greg's flesh-colored 1962 Plymouth Valiant driving south on I-57 in the dark, WLS on the radio as we headed back to the University of Illinois.
"Bridge Over Troubled Water" was the big album at the time (I still call them "albums", so sue me) and I'm sure I've heard it over a thousand times. It was my favorite thing to listen to while I was up late working on my Mechanical Drawing 103 projects. I'd use headphones so that Greg could sleep but I never managed to avoid singing along, so he eventually suggested I keep the volume down and use the speakers, as "I'd rather listen to the real thing than YOUR feeble croaking".
Singing along with Paul and Art in the dark, it dawned on me that there were very few people that I've known since that song was new. It's been a long time since I've talked to Greg, he only lasted one year at the U of I before he headed back to Chicago to be closer to his girlfriend Pooh Bear. Certainly no one from high school, I've never been to a reunion, haven’t kept in touch. I took a look at the alumni website after our 30th reunion and couldn't recognize a single person from the winners of the "Least Changed" contest. So let’s see. There's some college friends: Jim and Jan down in Springfield, Gary in Chicago. Pat's been gone for almost two years now, damn cancer. Fraternity roommate Bob. That’s about it.
I've known the group I saw Garden State with (Jim, Anne, Janelle) since the fall of 1995 when we all took the same fiction writing class. Another group member (Susan) just left us in August, that damn cancer again. We once were a real writer’s group - meeting every other Tuesday to offer support and constructive criticism, arguing over character vs. plot vs. motivation.
These days we’re more of a dining and drinking society and we only get together once every month or two. But we’ve been through a lot: divorces, job changes, Anne’s move to a town 90 minutes away, death. And as always when we get together, on Saturday we talked about a range of subjects eclectic enough to make the Algonquin Round Table spin. Good people. Good friends.
Old friends.
Why do I ask? Well. Saw the Zach Braff film Garden State last night; there's a scene where he uses the Simon and Garfunkel song "The Only Living Boy In New York" on the soundtrack - and I immediately found myself singing along. And then in a moment it was a drizzly Sunday night in the spring of 1970 and I’m huddled in the back seat of my roommate Greg's flesh-colored 1962 Plymouth Valiant driving south on I-57 in the dark, WLS on the radio as we headed back to the University of Illinois.
"Bridge Over Troubled Water" was the big album at the time (I still call them "albums", so sue me) and I'm sure I've heard it over a thousand times. It was my favorite thing to listen to while I was up late working on my Mechanical Drawing 103 projects. I'd use headphones so that Greg could sleep but I never managed to avoid singing along, so he eventually suggested I keep the volume down and use the speakers, as "I'd rather listen to the real thing than YOUR feeble croaking".
Singing along with Paul and Art in the dark, it dawned on me that there were very few people that I've known since that song was new. It's been a long time since I've talked to Greg, he only lasted one year at the U of I before he headed back to Chicago to be closer to his girlfriend Pooh Bear. Certainly no one from high school, I've never been to a reunion, haven’t kept in touch. I took a look at the alumni website after our 30th reunion and couldn't recognize a single person from the winners of the "Least Changed" contest. So let’s see. There's some college friends: Jim and Jan down in Springfield, Gary in Chicago. Pat's been gone for almost two years now, damn cancer. Fraternity roommate Bob. That’s about it.
I've known the group I saw Garden State with (Jim, Anne, Janelle) since the fall of 1995 when we all took the same fiction writing class. Another group member (Susan) just left us in August, that damn cancer again. We once were a real writer’s group - meeting every other Tuesday to offer support and constructive criticism, arguing over character vs. plot vs. motivation.
These days we’re more of a dining and drinking society and we only get together once every month or two. But we’ve been through a lot: divorces, job changes, Anne’s move to a town 90 minutes away, death. And as always when we get together, on Saturday we talked about a range of subjects eclectic enough to make the Algonquin Round Table spin. Good people. Good friends.
Old friends.
posted by Addison Clark at 10:37 PM
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